The Faded Sutra
The rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the grey, bruised sky that hung low over the St. Jude’s Infirmary, a building that stood less like a structure of stone and mortar and more like a living, breathing monolith of stone that had swallowed its own foundation, its gothic spires piercing the mist like the fingers of a drowned giant clawing for purchase on the earth, while inside, in...
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